


They Were Past That

by hannigramcracker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mention of scars, definitely some kind of AU, kind of, mention of suicide, murder husbands AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sometimes they still hurt,” Hannibal admit quietly. <br/>Will hummed, thumbing the scars lightly, creating a gentle heat that soothed the ache. He did not apologize. They were past that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Were Past That

**Author's Note:**

> I knew it was only a matter of time before I would write a fic about Hannibal's scars. This is not exactly what I wanted it to be like, but this is how it turned out. I hope it all makes sense.

“Sometimes they still hurt,” Hannibal admit quietly.

Will hummed, thumbing the scars lightly, creating a gentle heat that soothed the ache. He did not apologize. They were past that.

It had been two months, maybe three, since the day that Will Graham had gotten out of prison. He had gone to see Hannibal as soon as he could manage. He had wasted no time, he had wanted to set the record straight, but that was far from what ended up happening. Now, Will found himself in an isolated cabin in the middle of a woods in the European countryside curled up in the hollows of the very man who had caused so much destruction in his life.

Hannibal had lips that could erase almost anything that had happened in the past; Will was slowly finding that out. One touch of them against his own, and every past transgression was forgotten, forgiven. Hannibal had left no visible mark as a reminder of what he had done to Will. It was much easier to forget something when the evidence of it was not there to be seen every moment of every day.

Will was not lucky enough to have lips like that. No matter how many times he pressed them against Hannibal, the things he did would not vanish. Even now, as he pressed them lightly against the the long scars running vertically up Hannibal's forearms, the few inches of raised flesh remained. He could kiss and peck and lick and press and hold his hands over the marks, but they would remain. He could pull the red fabric of the sweater Hannibal wore on lazy afternoons like this down over his hands and hook it around his fingertips, but the scars would still be there underneath it and the red of the sweater would remind Will of the blood that poured from the wounds when they were open.

Sometimes, Will still awoke with nightmares of what Hannibal had done to him. He woke choking on a phantom medical tube, breath coming in wet puffs. He sometimes had to get up and walk the perimeter of the bedroom when the sheets felt too much like a straitjacket, when his hands over his mouth to quiet his screams felt too much like the clear mask. On these nights, Hannibal always apologized endlessly, and Will understood. He knew that Hannibal never really wanted to see him hurt; he was only trying to open up Will's potential. He knew that Hannibal strove to unleash the killer that sat tense beneath his skin and crawled through his veins; and it had worked. Hannibal was happy that he had been Will's first target. He happy to create Will's claws, even if he did not move out of the way fast enough and got snagged in them.

Will could not take this apology. He had always cared for Hannibal, and it was really no secret. Everyone knew it, even as Will tried to deny it. The thought of Hannibal strung up, bleeding and weak, balancing his life because of him made Will scarcely able to breathe. The guilt was strong enough to strangle.

“Will...” Hannibal's voice was slightly tense and Will realized that he had tightened his fingers around Hannibal's arms. He moved his hands so quickly that Hannibal's arms fell against his stomach. Will let out an angry breath.

“I'm sorry.”

“It was not your intention,” Hannibal said, pushing the sleeves back up past his elbows and rubbing slightly at the soft skin that was still a bit pink and inflamed. “Nor was it then.”

“I never wanted him to do it how he did it.”

“I know, my darling orchid. That is not the way that you would have done it. That is why it was such a shock to me when I found it was you,” Hannibal's words were soft. There was no anger in them at all.

Will reached out again and wound the pads of his fingers around Hannibal's arms and wrists. His mind was elsewhere, staring at the hairless undersides of Hannibal's forearms. He was suddenly in the waiting room of Hannibal's office, shoving a gun down Hannibal's throat, forcing the man to his knees and making his jaw pop and choke on the weapon. The arousal in the room from both parties was unmistakable, and Will could not pull the trigger. They both knew he would never, regardless of the situation. That was the first night he had become acquainted with Hannibal's lips – along with the rest of his body as well. Will hummed another time, the vibrations from his lips making the scar on his left arm tingle when Will pressed them to it. “That's just... It isn't something anyone should have to have gone through. Much less yourself.”

Hannibal fell silent and Will could feel him stiffen beneath his touch. He kissed the entire way up his left arm, stopping where the fabric of his sweater started, looking through his lashes to the planes of Hannibal's face. He leaned across and kissed down Hannibal's right arm, paying special attention to the slightly knotted flesh. Hannibal breathed a small sigh.

Hannibal woke with nightmares from time to time as well. They were much fewer and far between than Will's were, but that was to be expected. Hannibal's were spaced out between weeks, sometimes even months, but when they happened they shattered Will's heart and world. Hannibal never chose to speak of what happened behind his closed eyes, but Will knew something tragic had happened in Hannibal's past. He could piece it together if he tried, but he did not want to overstep the boundaries between them like that. He could not always turn his empathy off when he was awoken to Hannibal lying in bed next to him keening and sobbing, however. Because of this, Will knew that his dreams were about something that happened what seemed like lives ago. He knew they were about his family and a little girl, and he knew that whatever it was had made an impact on Hannibal. But, Will was patient. Hannibal would tell him the rest when he was ready, and until then, Will would wait.

“Do you remember your first kill, Will?”

Will opened his mouth, but Hannibal spoke again before he could answer. “I mean your first kill with me. Not on the police force, and not Hobbs.”

Will leaned his head back and thought. Of course he did. “Yes.”

“I trust you remember how good it felt as well.” It was not a question.

“ _Yes._ ” Will shivered with the memory of it. It had felt good. He remembered the way the man's blood had coated right up to his forearms. Hannibal had let him kill with his skin unprotected the first time, so he could memorize the warm wet feeling of blood between his fingers and the crimson stain to his skin and how the fluid clung softly to the his hair. He remembered Hannibal standing behind him, clad in a full plaid suit and Winsdor knotted tie, all covered in a clear jumpsuit of plastic, quietly instructing him on how to cut into the stomach of the prone man beneath him. Will could not forget the way that Hannibal had told him how to crack his ribs open while keeping him alive – it was better than anything he had ever heard in the bedroom. “That man was awful. He was hurting children. It felt wonderful to bring him to justice.” 

Hannibal nodded, a small  _ah_ sound issuing from his parted lips. He pressed them into the crown of Will's curls, his arms still being taken care of by light fingertips and soft lips. “Exactly. You brought your own form justice onto him. Much like my own first kill.” 

Will stopped moving and turned to look up at Hannibal and listen to him speak. “I'm sure you have put it together by now.” 

Will cocked his head, a question in his eyes. “What I dream about.” 

“Not exactly. I didn't want to pry.” 

It was Hannibal's turn to hum his understanding, but it came out more like a growl. “Always so considerate, my good Will.” He paused a moment and then continued. “When I was younger, a very small boy, my family died. There were very hard times in my country; no one had enough food to eat. We were driven from our home and were traveling with a small group in an attempt to escape. My parents were the first to die in our group, and some truly horrible men presumably ate them. I do not know for sure, and I cannot fault them now; not for that. Times were desperate and everyone was dying around us.”

Hannibal's fists tightened. “However, I can fault them for killing and eating my sister.” 

“Jesus.” Will whispered. 

“Years later, I found the leader of this group of men. He was old and did not put up much of a fight, but I have not felt a kill as sweet as that first one since.” 

“Hannibal...Christ...”

“I did not tell you this for your sympathy, Will.”

“Then why are you telling me?” 

Will felt Hannibal take a breath. “Because I no longer want you to feel badly about the things that your actions caused. You had no control over the situation, you have no idea what would happen.”

“But-” Will tried to cut in, but Hannibal did not stop speaking and Will's words died on his tongue. 

“And this situation was not a unique one. I had placed myself in a situation similar once before, and many many times in my own mind.” 

Will was silent and Hannibal lifted his arms. “No matter how much these wounds still sting from time to time, they are healing, and they are remnants of your becoming. Reminders of you. I would rather have these scars to look at than the memories of others. When I see them, I see you. I see you trying to protect yourself. I see you growing, and I feel proud.” 

Will traced his middle finger down the ridge of skin, earning a satisfying shiver from Hannibal. Will did not apologize. It would not have been the right thing to say. Hannibal had said he did not want sympathy, and though Will felt his heart nearly burst with the feeling that came with the thoughts of a younger version of this man who was sure of everything wanting to end his life, he did not say a word. They were past that. 

 


End file.
